


642

by SinkingintheAbyssofFeels



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Darren Pye is a character from the novel, F/M, Human AU, It's a really good adventure if anyone's interested in reading the Doctor Who novels, School, Winner Takes It All, With the Ninth Doctor, fun fact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-01 09:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16282292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinkingintheAbyssofFeels/pseuds/SinkingintheAbyssofFeels
Summary: A houseplant is dying. Tell it why it needs to live. Or Rose eavesdrops on a lonely teen who talks way too much to himself, and she's probably falling for him. Too bad she can't see his face."Okay, so she's stalking him, but let's say -hypothetically- she's stalking him, but he's stalking her, stalking him."





	1. Every Bond You Break

“You will not die, I won’t allow it. I can’t.”

Rose ducked. Back pressed flat to the brick building when a voice spilled out an open window overhead. They shuffled about the room. And getting caught trespassing could be a stern warning, or immensely bad. But that bloody wrought iron fence wasn’t jumped for no reason.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he continued. “Summer, mid-July, forgotten on the windowsill. Hottest day; record high. No water. And you stuck through it.”

_ Windowsill? No water? _ Rose crinkled her nose quizzically.  _ Is he reassuring a plant? _ She hefted the bag off her shoulders. Wondering, not for the first time, if she’d find it today. Withdrawing a magnet, she crawled, scanning it through the grass.

“Winter!”

His exclamation shot her through and through. Cursing him for her near need to squeak, she sipped a deep lulling breath before proceeding.

“Frozen to the roots, but did you die of shock? No! You braved it.”

His voice cracking gave Rose reason to pause. Mouth parted she noted his breathing. Short gulping breaths that held back something more.

“So, I need you to be brave now.”

Glancing over her shoulder, a small browning plant is all she could make out from her vantage point... but his voice...

“Because... I can’t... I can’t lose anything else.”

Wet tears dripped from his words, tugging and tangling her heartstrings. Shifting back to the wall she felt, empathic as she was, his sorrow pouring into her veins.

“You’re so small, and you can’t understand, but... I lost someone today,” he quavered. “You probably remember them for their terrible puns.” He coughed, but it might have been a laugh. “They met you, said you’d grow taller, that they’d  _ root _ for you.”

Rose smirked.

“They had open heart surgery yesterday... It didn’t... Mum didn’t...”

Her smile faded.

He inhaled a deep breath, speaking more through his nose, “please... don’t leave me too. Please.”

* * *

 

Rose returned that night, new supplies at hand. She trimmed dead leaves and branches off the plant to the best of her ability, only pausing when she heard the rustling of sheets.

He sleeps with the window open, apparently.

So she swept the blue pot under the windowsill, flashlight in hand to finish what she started. Silently rejoicing when she trimmed back to reveal a speck of green stem. Proper water, mixed in a cocktail of recommended chemicals, and the plant went back to its rightful place.

She collapsed that night in bed. A whole day at the gardeners. Hopefully she remembered the procedures correctly. Even now, as she runs it on a reassuring loop in her mind, she’s shocked she remembers anything. She’d never taken in this much information, not even for class. Speaking of which, is in an hour...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I never posted this here! I only wanted to post Doctor Who fics here when they were complete, but never got around to this one. Well. Here ya go!
> 
> Mum got me a book called 642 Things to Write About. Full of writing prompts. The first was what's in the summary. So here I am, writing. I think I need a beta, someone to bounce ideas around with. Or just double check my work if anyone's interested. My brother's been sucked into life, and hasn't the time.
> 
> Anywho! I'm chasing my motivation with high hopes and a fifteen foot net. Here's to hoping motivation is tucked snugly under your arms, dear reader. And if not, well, you're not alone.


	2. Don't Know What To Do

“Find it?” Shareen asked, trotting up to a yawning Rose.

“Sorry.”

Shareen groaned.

“I said sorry!”

“Sneakin’ in every night, I’m bound to get noticed! Mum won’t let me live it down, losin’ my key again.”

“It wasn’t even your fault, Shareen. Stupid Darren roughing you up, tossing your keys away. Lucky you, he’s not smart, and didn’t think to toss them in the river.”

“No, just the all boys school down the street.”

“Yeah.” Rose itched her forehead. “Listen, I’ve got in twice already. Are you sure it’s round the window with the plant?”

“Positive. Third time’s the charm, right?” She grinned, and hugged onto her arm. “You’re the best Rose!”

“Yeah.” She smirked. “Only cause you’re on your last strike.”

* * *

 

The sound of his door clicking open drew her under the window. “Oh, you’re beautiful!”

Rose had to reel her heart back into her chest. It’s not her he’s gushing over. That’s impossible.

“Couldn’t believe it, not a dream this morning, you’re sprouting again!”

_ Of course. _

“Same pot, same dirt, has to be you. Evidence is—” a crinkling noise followed. “These fallen bits. Interesting survival technique, that. Wish I knew more about the earth than the stars when it came to your care. Good thing you took care of it for me.” He remained silent momentarily. “Thank you.”

Rose rolled her eyes, shaking off a good natured smile, cause,  _ can he seriously be so daft? _

“Speaking of the stars, one day I’ll have a doctorate in astronomy. A proper doctor. Imagine. Me. Wearing the title Doctor _. _ People will prattle about, calling,  _ Doctor! _ I spoke to the professor about it, and he agrees it’s an indisputable fact that I’ll excell in the field.” He giggled.

In that moment Rose noticed a carrying smile gracing her own face.  _ Doctor _ , she thought.  _ Doctor ...what? _ Her eyebrows drew together, she didn’t know his name. To be fair, how often does she say her own name aloud to herself, but still...

“Of course.” Doctor-something sighed. “Gotta survive school before university.”

Rose sighed as an unspoken agreement.

* * *

 

The following day Shareen frowned in disappointment.

It would help if she actually  _ looked _ this time.

* * *

 

She didn’t look this time.

“Rose!” The Doctor blurted. “Proper name for a miniature rose bush such as yourself.”

At this rate, Rose is going to need a second heart for the amount of shocks he’s given her one.

Him; the Doctor.

She’d given up trying to learn his name, feeling it weird as she peeked into his room to find one, and settled on his future title.  _ Curiosity killed the cat _ , whispered somewhere in the back of her mind. But it didn’t sate her desire to learn it.

She hugged her knees. A smile as she nested once more into his oncoming babble.

“Interesting things we picked up in history class today.”

Rose slumped.  _ History... _

“Benjamin Franklin could’ve shagged the pants off England!”

Rose muffled a snort into her palm.

“He’s got kids all over. A ladies man of his time. There’s a possibility I’m related to him, that’s how bad he was.” There was a shuffling, and when he carried on, it muffled between chews. “Top of towers, he created a trend of standing around, only the wind dressing him and his many female companions. He called them  _ air baths _ .”

Rose blinked, incredulous laughter bounded by her will alone.  _ Really? _

“That famous painting; him holding a kite with a key on the end. There’s a child at his side. That’s probably a depiction of his favorite. For all the children he had, he picked favorites, Rose.”

Her heart fluttered. Rose’s name on his tongue, and this has to be her new favorite pastime.

* * *

 

A rozzer pacing her entrance point turned Rose away for the Doctor that day.

* * *

 

“Noticed you here a few days ago. Thought we could share lunch together.”

An american accent occupied the spot she’d claimed days before under that precious window. Patting the grass beside himself, he offered an apple. Blue eyes and crossed legs invited her with innocent promises, but his muscles spoke otherwise.

“Hello,” Rose greeted, failing to hide her surprise.

“Hello,” he returned.

“Hello.” She shook herself. “Sorry, that was hello twice there. Who are you?”

He set the apple onto a napkin, feigning nonchalance. “Jack Harkness. Foreign exchange student trying to find a little life in this dull school. You look promising.”

Rose sat, the apple between them. “Right, I guessed you weren’t a local boy.”

“And I’m guessing you’re not a local girl. Nearest school that’s at least co-ed isn’t exactly close by.”

She bit her lip. “Guessing right.”

“I won’t tell, but what brings you here?”

The sound of  _ his _ door falling open, and she cupped the american's mouth.

“Ah- um...” the Doctor’s voice overhead stumbled quietly to himself. Her face pled for Jack to remain silent. He raised a teasing brow in return. “Blast...” A rustling broke up the Doctor’s speech. “Seem to have... misplaced my notebook.” His footsteps receded, and the door shut.

Jack almost laughed. “You’re spying on him?”

“M’not! I’m... eavesdropping?” She raised the question to herself, embarrassed when realisation settled in. “Oh god, I’m spying on him.”

He did laugh that time. “How disappointed should I be that this isn’t my window? Is he a crush? Boyfriend? Fiancé?” His eyebrows did a little dance.

“Are you coming onto me?”

Jack grinned. “Is it working?”

“Well...”

“How’s this, they’ve got a game room on campus; pool table, foosball, air hockey, lounge chairs, a fridge full of refreshments and snacks, the works! The one speck speck of gold on the grounds. Let me take you there and you can kickback like the queen.”

Brain ticking back to life, Rose put a finger to her chin. “Riddle me this, if they’ve got this cornerstone of treasure, why aren’t you there now?”

Jack jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s closed to us students on weekdays, reserved for guests, but! they allow students in if the guest is for them.”

“And there’s the rub.”

He inched a hand around her hip. “Please?”

She lightly tapped his advance away. “Dunno,” she hummed. “What’s in it for me?”

His voice dropped an octave. “Isn’t that obvious?”

Her eyes fell to his lips.

“It’s that, or you could sneak out a window once we’re in. Come right back here if that’s what you’d rather have. Front door’s better than scaling the fence anyday.”

“Tempting.”

“I often am.”


	3. You Are an Obsession

The game room, or guest lounge, carried all the furnishings. Tan painted walls against a brown wood trim. Soft velvet carpet flooring, crisp and swimming in shadowy floral patterns. A back wall lined with bright, blinking arcade games. Table football across the expanse of one end, and pool at the other. Sandwiched between them sat leather couches and recliners before the biggest television Rose’s ever seen. And to top it all off, behind the couches a bar awaited.

Jack took up a stool, inviting her to follow.

“Aren’t most attending underage?” she asked.

Jack shrugged. “It’s not alcohol they’re serving.”

Rose took the hint and examined the bottles lining the shelves over the bar. Fizzy drinks, jars of loose tea leaves, varying water brands.

She rolled her eyes on the last one and laughed. “What is this?”

He chuckled in response. “An alma mater’s idea of a joke. He paid to have it set up. Hey, barkeep!” He whistled for the man idling at the end of the bar.

The man approached, and set his hands into his apron with a smile.

“I’ll take a Pepsi, and whatever— she wants... what’s your name?”

“I’m fine,” she told the barkeep, then faced Jack with her tongue caught in her teeth. “I’m Rose, thank you for asking.”

“Rose. Nice name. I’ve worked with a few rose’s before.”

Rose spun in the swivel stool, her elbows propped onto the bar behind her. “So what’s it you do here?”

“My favorite? Pool, hands down.”

When his drink arrived he motioned with it to the far door. “There’s an exit in the hall leading to this room. Goes straight outside, and is close to.” He leered at her. “You know.”

“Yeah, alright.” Rose slipped off her stool, fiddling her thumbs together as she backed out. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

* * *

 

Rose and her magnet set to work. No babble. And she nearly risked a peek over the windowsill to confirm the room's occupant. The flutter of a page turn washed away her doubts.

The problem of Shareen’s key however...

There’s a logical way to solve this. One she refused to consider out of haste and energy expenditure. But it’s like in those crime shows, when they need to catalogue individual squares of carpet. One section at a time would guarantee her findings. Not that she could tape up sections of the grass. But maybe methodical rows.

Rose hovered the magnet from the wall to a nearby stone. Her first place marker. Shuffling through the turf on all threes. Wobbling, she worried that Jack would tell the Doctor what she’s been up to. Not that Jack knows, he assumes, and... he’s half right.

A clink pinged to the surface of her magnet. Rose scrunched her eyes shut. The Doctor heard that. There’s no way he didn’t hear that.

“Odd,” he noted to himself. His footsteps came increasingly closer.

Rose couldn’t move. The rustling of the grass would make more noise, but she had to do something. Could she run? Either side of the building would be too far to retreat to now.

The back of her head tingled, like his eyes already lingered there. She had to turn around, make it less weird.

Rose flipped onto her bum. His plant swayed in the wind, but he wasn’t there.

“The research conflicts with our textbooks,” the Doctor continued.

Rose dropped into the grass.

_ Oh, but _ .

She lifted the magnet. At least she found— a bottlecap...

* * *

 

Jack nudged her with his elbow. “Up for a round?”

Having been caught in the act by Jack the other day, a foggy unease stuck to her back. One that she couldn’t shake off, even when returning to the Doctor’s window. So Rose decided maybe learning more of Jack would calm her senses.

“Sure.”

He clapped. Loud. Everyone in the room jumped as he announced to the players circling the pool table, “anyone who wants to stay, ante up.”

Muttered curses followed their pocket rummagings. Pound notes dropped begrudgingly onto the center of the table.

“As a first timer, you’re spared from pitching in,” Jack told her.

Rose crossed her arms. “Lucky me...”

“Usual rules.” Jack grinned. “Winner takes it all.”

* * *

 

Jack’s first move was purely for show. The first player scattered the set. Next Jack cracked his knuckles. Bright beautiful smile as he leaned his bum against the table. He wound the cue stick around his back, knocking the cue ball with one smooth flick. It went airborne over the three ball, hitting one into a corner socket.

Stick upright, Rose leaned against it, watching in silent judgement. Jack sent her a silent question when she made no comment.

She’s seen the game a dozen times, played it a dozen more. Jack bumped another, it hit off the rail, but did nothing more. Big mistake.

Rose concentrated, her next target hid around a line of undesirable numbers. She’d have to hit off the rail again.

Every night there’d been a game, Mickey dragged her to the pub. What else could she do but play pool and poker? The older men taught her tricks. Ways to play the games safe, ways to make it risky.

She shot.

The ball bumped off the rail, missing every other, before sinking perfectly.

The room cascaded into silence.

Rose gazed around the noiseless abyss.

“You...” one player tentatively began. “Can you do that again?”

Rose gave him a tongue touched grin.

* * *

 

“I’ll have to be more cautious next time,” Jack murmured.

Rose gathered up her winnings. “Course you will.” Then offered it forward. “Who gave what?”

The players shifted anxiously. “You’re givin’ it back?”

“Rose.” Jack dropped his stick on the table. “You’re not serious.”

She glared at him. “Sorry I’m not a gambling girl.”

After reclaiming their currency they dispersed.

“Great.”

“It’s a dirty trick to begin with, you’ve obviously got skills above them.”

“Look, I’m just trying to have a little fun.”

“And they aren’t?”

She sighed when a scowl settled onto his face. Jack set up another game. She thought he wanted a rematch, but once he hit the cue ball twice and got nothing, she decided that wasn’t the case.

Rose went to the window. Her perch under his window sounded like a good escape. She fiddled with the curtains, and noticed through the windowpane a decoration of flowers.

Bold reds outlined and cradled beds of pink. A multitude of blossoms painted the ground, blending together, and from afar she eagerly took it all in. The petals winded together, curving in all the right places to form the bigger picture of a butterfly.

She gasped. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Jack glanced sidelong at her. The click-clack of balls missing their mark, and Jack joined her to view the outside. “My parents pretty much raised me in a greenery. School caught wind, and commissioned it out of me.”

Rose could feel a grin building. “You said you worked with roses before.”

He couldn’t help but smile back. “Surprised?”

“It’s brilliant!” She enthused.

He chuckled at the ground.

“Can you show me?”

* * *

 

“Most people like to plant them full grown and have the design over with. I’m about maintenance,” Jack told her as they circled the art garden. “Grow them yourself, tend to them, and you’ll get bloom after bloom.”

Rose caressed the flower, inhaling its fragrance as she did. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Wouldn’t brag if I didn’t.”

She hummed in agreement. “The green thumb.”

He lifted a strand of her hair, and pressed a kiss to it. “Good for any rose.”

“Listen,” Rose stepped toward him. Breath intermingling with his. “I’ve got a favor...”

* * *

 

“So Doc!” Jack exclaimed.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” The Doctor asked as they entered his room. Rose sat under the windowsill outside, fingers crossed for the pieces to fall into place.

Jack’s voice gravitated toward her. He leaned against the wall beside the window, staring down at a flustered Rose. “Nickname I heard through the grapevine.”

He winked at her.

She is going to slap him.

Jack swiped up the miniature rose to examine it. “Beautiful progress you’ve made.”

“Thank you,” the Doctor said through the fluttering of papers.

“Soil’s completely wrong.”

The paper fluttering stopped.

“Needs less water. And a bigger pot.”

“Did you invite yourself in my room to insult my flower?”

“Pretty much.”

The door opened. “Shift.”

“I’m kidding, Doc. I’m not here to insult your flower.”

The door shut.

“I’m here to insult the way you care for the flower.”


	4. Look at the Stars Look How They Shine

A downpour prevented her days after, even if she braved the weather for a quick visit, his window remained closed.

"You should introduce yourself," Jack coaxed Rose. "He's friendly.  _Very_  friendly."

"Might." Rose swished her earl gray in a wine glass from the bar. "If I did, I couldn't tell him about..." She waved vaguely. "He'd hate me."

"Oh, honey." Jack wrapped an arm around her. "I'm sure he'd turn the other cheek. Man's vocabulary mostly consists of hello and sorry. Just the other day I bumped him, scattered his homework across professor's desk, and he apologized to  _me_."

She shrugged one shoulder.

"Tell you what." He brought Rose to her feet. "Let's have a game. Take your mind off it."

She stopped.

"No forced bets." Jack drew a cross with his finger over his heart. "I'm a changed man, Rosie. Unless you're interested?"

She grinned. "Five quid?"

He dropped his hands to his pockets. "Wring a poor man dry!"

"Ten?"

"You're on."

* * *

"That botanist friend I told you about the other day," he said around the bite of a sandwich. Eating, as per her other visits, gave reason to Rose that this time served as his lunchtime. "He's promised to ah... educate me in the language of the flower." His food absorbed the span of a few minutes. "I think." And he performed a nervous habit, one Rose could never puzzle out, or see. "I think he fancies me."

 _That's..._  Rose nibbled her thumbnail.  _...a development._

"Not that..." A chair skidded over the wood floor. "He can say to-may-to, but I'll say to-mah-to, although..." He seemed to contemplate. "I think he goes both ways... or more precisely, every way. He's interesting, I'll give Jack that..."

* * *

Rose prepared lunch of her own for her visit days later. Him taking up nibbles in this time tended to leave her stomach impatient. unfolding a napkin in her lap she tucked into salt and vinegar. Now... there were chips in here somewhere...

An open and slam jarred Rose from her first bite. The bed ping-ponged a creak till it lost all momentum. No talk today?

Kept to her own thoughts, she ate.

Seems his gob could run for the olympics. Still. Listening to him on an almost daily basis has given her reason to study between his pauses. The companionable quiet of his company provided motivation, as he usually studied himself. No texting. Her phone couldn't do no volume, only vibrate.

Today, however, he fell straight to bed. Long day? It is almost half-term. Exams tend to come in waves around this time.

"The english professor queried of my wellbeing. I know he means to ask of my emotional state since he invited me to the counselors." He scoffed. "Honestly, why can't they let it drop. Forget the event occurred. I have."

 _Don't say that._  The pang of her lost father came to mind. Despite having lost him, she did spend time lamenting him.

Thinking about it... has the Doctor mourned his mother at all? Day one, but every other time? He'd been so chipper, she never considered he crafted a mask.

His feet shuffled across the room.  _Click_. "Need to restock the fridge..."

* * *

Shareen stopped bugging her.

Since Rose found the key weeks ago.

* * *

A wheezing, groaning noise emanated from the Doctor's room. Having discovered this, Rose filled a lidded styrofoam cup with her mum's best peppermint honey tea, and a to-go container with chicken soup. Canned soup, as she couldn't waste time learning the recipe.

A quick peek. The slow rising lump slumbered. And... a tuft of brown hair... Her first glimpse of him.

She deposited the cup and container onto his windowsill, admiring the rose bush as she did. Whatever Jack did, it worked. It's flourishing, in no time the buds would bloom.

The Doctor sneezed, began to turn in place, and she fled.

* * *

Rose's every other day visits to the window ceased. That one delivery would be suspicion enough for the Doctor to keep an eye out. It didn't stop her from passing by to catch a glimpse of his window, wondering if he recovered okay.

* * *

A week later while scoping out boys on street corners Shareen dug into Rose that,  _you've got your eye elsewhere_. Did she? Not that Rose ever saw the Doctor's face, she couldn't say he caught her eye, but maybe her ear.

* * *

Rose persuaded herself that one tiny visit wouldn't hurt. The Doctor was sick, what if it landed him in the hospital? She'd have never known. And it has been awhile. Logically, he'd be all better, and have forgotten about the soup and tea ages ago. Jack could tell her something beforehand to stay on the safe side.

But somewhere between her home and the dormitories, Darren Pye rounded into her vision. A metre away on the pavement, she crossed the street, praying he hadn't recognized her.

No such luck.

"Pullin' one over me?" Darren grumbled. "You're friends with that bint, Shareen."

Her anger flared, overwhelming her need to keep safe. She shoved him, "piss off!" but her muscles against his stature had the same effect as it would to a brick wall.

Darren clamped his meaty fingers around her wrist, a difference in strength that seized Rose with a sudden fear that he'd release it broken. "You shut up and listen." He dragged her from onlookers into a nearby alley. Her struggles only resulted in a tougher grip. "That slag made off with half her money last time. I want her address to get back what's owed me." When she didn't respond he gripped impossibly tighter.

A passers-by at the mouth of the alley gasped upon witnessing his transgression, drawing off Darren's attention enough that Rose was able to punch him. Her first choice, not the best. She aimed for his cheek, but skidded over his teeth as well. A white speck went airborne, confirming that adrenaline is a forced to be reckoned with, or he had poor dental health. Probably the latter. Either way, hurt like hell. He staggered, no choice but to let go. And with her instincts in overdrive, she ran.

Weaving the city crowds wouldn't get her far from the oaf, so after trying to do so, she ducked into another alley. Around the corner she caught glance of him gaining. Clinging to the brick wall, she squeezed her eyes shut. Chest heaving as she hoped for him to simply pass.

But he wouldn't.

He saw her glance around the edge.

And over the whirlwind of panic, she couldn't think of what to do.

A warmth twined into her hand and tugged her attention to a pair of compelling brown eyes.

"Run," he demanded.

And they did.

He guided her deeper into the alley to a passage that bent around the backs of buildings.

"Take off your jacket!" he told her.

"Why?"

"Trust me!"

She did so, and he exchanged her pink overcoat into his bookbag for a black hoodie.

"Put this on, hoodie and all."

She did so as they twisted through passageways until their path spilled onto the streets once more. The same street Darren chased her on.

"This isn't—"

He held a finger to his lips with a smile. Freckles matted his face. His gelled hair stuck every which way. And a mischievous twinkle danced in his eye.

 _Handsome_ , flitted through her mind.

"Blend in."

With that he pulled her into the crowd. His hand hugging hers all the while. They walked with their back to Darren's incoming figure. There weren't many people, and that worried her. But his idle hand swung to his side, and he strolled with no purpose.

She mimed him. Pretending he knew what he was doing.

Rose jolted when he did, bumping shoulders with Darren as he brazenly passed. He said nothing to being knocked aside. Simply watched Darren go.

Suddenly he turned them around. Striding the opposite way. Safe.

"Saw that in the movies," he said with barely contained glee. "Trick of the perception. Bright pink thing like you running, ergo, he searches for a pink runner. Therefore, change up your outfit." He tapped his bag, chest puffing slightly. "Annnd walk."

Hearing him talk, normal pace, no urgency, sent her reeling. Rose froze mid step, leaving him with no choice but to turn back and face her.

"Doctor?"

He blinked several times. "What?"

His voice burned away any doubt. This is him. Out of the windowsill, and very real. She could still feel his temperature on her fingertips as the wind attempted to nip it away.

"In a way I plan to become one—" His eyes widened on her hand. "Oh— oh! Doctor! Blimey, you don't half do the dramatics."

A gash over her knuckles bled in streams to her fingertips.

"Oh," she acknowledged.

"You're awfully calm about this," He noted, removing a handkerchief from his bag to tend, as she winced, to her wound.

She curled her lips between her teeth, refusing to look him in the eye, yet glancing at him anyway. When he caught her eye, he grinned.

Rose hurriedly threw her gaze down. She didn't know whether to stay with him at the moment or leave. Her hand probably required stitches, but they've finally met, and her heart refused to let logic dictate her thoughts. But not for lack of trying. At the moment a three way battle of logic, heart, and adrenaline, stole any chance for her to think clearly.

"There we are."

Her wound gingerly wrapped in cloth, he slowly slipped his hand from hers.

"Thank you."

As if it came naturally, he reclaimed her other hand, continuing their walk to nowhere. "What's your name?"

It felt odd, even now, to be given the chance to respond to him. Like a TV character who stepped out of the screen.

"Rose."

He smiled like the cat who swallowed the canary. "Nice to meet you, Rose."

"What's your name?"

"I believe..." He touched his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "You said so earlier." He gestured to her hand. "I have proven myself, haven't I?"

"Yeah, okay but..." She twisted her lips. "Doctor what?"

"Just the Doctor." He hummed cheerily.

She wanted to push, but didn't know how. "The Doctor."

He twiddled the fingers of his free hand. "Hello~"

Her concentration broke on a chuckle.

"Tell me why that brute chased after you."

"He's like that to everyone."

"And everyone punches him like that?"

"Not really, no. He threatened my friend."

His spirits lifted again like a leaf on good wind. "A force to be reckoned with, Rose- sorry, do you have a last name?"

"Tyler."

His eyebrows jumped, skepticism edged into his eyes. "Rose Tyler."

"What? Not suppose to have a last name?"

"Sorry, it's a lovely name. Rose Tyler."

"Thanks." She tugged the hem of her- his jacket. "Oh, you probably want this back."

"Perhaps after you're home and safe."

"I'm a big girl."

"And he's a big boy," he blew a breath between his teeth. "Massive, actually."

"Yeah he—" The color drained from her face. "He know's where I live." Rose flipped out her phone, dialing a number, cursing when her nerves punched the wrong keys. When she got the call in, it went straight to message. "Mum won't get off the phone!" Rose jogged off, inadvertently jerking the Doctor along. Her eyes conveyed an apology. "I've got to run before he beats me there."

"Hold on, you're not doing this alone."

"M'fine. Got one good hand."

"And I've got two. Doctor, remember?" He carded said hand through his hair. "Hang on, can I see your phone?"

In a flurry of movement he had it to his ear and ringing in seconds flat. "Jack? Remember that favor?" A pause. "God, Jack." His stoic expression contradicted it's red color. "Not that. Listen, you know anyone named." And when prompted, Rose supplied the name. "Darren Pye." Shorter pause. "Yeah. He's got a target on someone's back, and I don't like it." With a quick, "thanks," he hung up.

Jack? The pool loving botanist? "What's he gonna do?"

"What he does best." The Doctor responded. "Well... second best. Weelll," he drawled. "Fifth?"


	5. One Way or Another

“Rose. Bout bloomin' time! Where's what I sent you for?”

Rose’s shoulders sagged. Mental exhaustion kicked awake by her Mum, she rummaged through her pockets. Handing off a small tube of superglue.

She accepted it, and set her hands to her hips immediately after. “Who’s himself then?” She nodded to the end of the hall where the Doctor beamed. Extending his hand, and taking the wide steps necessary to greet her.

“I’m the Doctor.”

“Doctor?” Jackie appraised him. “In training?”

Appearance-wise, he’s probably two or three years older than Rose.

An embarrassed chuckle bubbled up as he averted his eyes, rubbing a hand down the back of his head. “Sort of, yeah.”

Given a second, approval washed Jackie’s suspicions clean, and Rose almost turned her whole head with a massive eyeroll. This is why she never brings anyone home. Always testing the waters, wondering what standards a potential other carried for her one precious daughter. The universal need for a parent to live vicariously beyond what they have in their lifetime through their child. It nearly suffocated her at times.  _ What if he’s just a friend? _

“Mum, remember Darren?”

Jackie waved a dismissive hand over her shoulder as she busied herself in the adjoining kitchen. “Never had the pleasure of meetin’ the boy.” Rose and the Doctor trailed in shortly after. “But I’ve heard enough to know he’s no good.”

Rose twirled a bundle of hair around her finger. “I, uh... ticked ‘im off”

“What did you do?”

And didn’t that just make it worse. Her own mother assumed it began with her. “Nothin’!” Rose retaliated. “I mean, got him.” She proffered her injury. “But it was me or Shareen.”

“Oh Rose,” she cooed, cradling her bandaged hand. “We can’t have any hospital visits, not with the money right now...”

“It’s fine.” The Doctor squeezed between them. “Checked it myself. Ligaments in place. Tissue intact. She’ll be right as rain as long as she doesn’t make it worse.”

Rose’s lip twitched into an almost smile. “Are you really a doctor?”

His shoulders jumped, a grin of his own building. “Sort of.”

“Are you going to keep answering questions by not answering questions?”

“Maybe.”

Jackie gaped at him. “If Rose doesn’t keep you, I will.”

Rose bent at the knees, curling into mortification. “Mum!”

Jackie passed between them into the sitting area, carrying tea and glasses, spouting, “Now, Shareen. Her company never does you any good. I’ve told you before, make better friends. The one’s going somewhere.”

Rose groaned, stomping her foot, and feeling very five again. “This is hardly the time! Mum, listen! Dareen’s probably—!”

The Doctor stepped forward, coming in from the outside, and Rose wondered when he left. “Crossing the estates now!”

Rose imagined Darren upset enough to cross lines, but never pictured the reality of him invading her home. She scanned the room for weapons. Coat hangers. Vase. Screwdriver. Third place trophy, marble base, bound to hurt.

“Got any alcohol?” The Doctor called, already opening cabinets in the kitchen. “Ah-ha!”

“Oi!” Rose took the bottle from him. “No.”

“Trust me on this,” he smiled somewhat innocently.

Rose conceded, handing it back.

And he took a swig, coughing immediately after. The Doctor brought the label to eye level, still struggling with breath. His eyes bulged. “Bacardi!? Blimey, you drink this?”

“Not anymore,” Rose informed him, wavering on a fine line, still deciding whether or not to withdraw her trust. “First time she tried it, it knocked Mum off her feet,” she said as he poured it into a large mug. “Won it in a lottery though, so she can’t bring herself to toss it.”

“Then it’s her lucky day.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not going to waste.”

* * *

 

 

They stood at the top of the stairs. Rose with her heart pounding. A soldier defending her home. And the Doctor with a mug of Bacardi. A brief thought of them pushing Darren down the stairs when he arrived crossed her mind, but it might do more damage than she’s willing to serve time for.

Darren climbed the first step, eyes trained on her, hands clenched at his sides.

“What are we doing?” Rose asked the Doctor.

“Waiting.”

“To fight? With what? You going to force drink him into a stupor?”

“No. it’s our first line of defense.”

“And you took a shot..?”

“For a boost of confidence.”

“For all your smarts, I didn’t think you’d need it.”

He flashed her a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “More than likely, I’m probably, really, going to do something stupid.”

“I couldn’t tell,” she deadpanned.

The sarcasm wasn’t lost on him, but he only managed to throw her a look before Darren demanded the Doctor to, “leave if you know what’s good for you.” From the middle of the staircase he waited, if only by a thread of patience. Probably for want of less witnesses.  _ Good luck _ , Rose thought, knowing without looking that a number of creased blinds, and cracked doors, were littered throughout the estate.

“Right!” The Doctor chirped, all happy feelings, like when he met her mum. “Nice to meet you, Darren. I’m the Doctor.”

Darren’s expression curdled in opposition. “If I have to—”

He advanced, but the Doctor bent away. His arms flung up, he slid widely backwards, as if coaxing a wild animal. “Now now, we’re both sensible beings. Let’s talk a mo. I understand you’re upset, I would be too. Losing a tooth would ruin anyone’s day.”

Darren ran his tongue over his jagged front tooth.

“But I’m going to have to ask you leave Rose out of this vengence plan of yours. You threatened to harm her and her friend, so as I see it, the two of you are even.”

Darren took another step forward.

The Doctor’s face hardened, a resolution she hardly expected out of someone who could smile so brightly moments before.

“You go through with this, and I promise, you won’t like the outcome.” His voice laid a path of shattered glass. “Come any closer, Darren Pye, and you’ll regret it. I’ll be involved. And trust me, that’s the last thing you want.”

Not quite jarred, Darren’s foot came up another. With, what Rose metaphorically felt, were bare feet.

“May hellfire have mercy on your mortal soul,” the Doctor spoke down to him. He pulled a lighter from his pocket. Clicked sparks into the mug, igniting the alcohol, before he poured it down the cement steps. Flames tumbled down. Darren hopped off his feet, scrambling back, but catching his heels ablaze nonetheless.

Rose could only tear her gaze away when the Doctor took her hand. “Come on!”

* * *

 

Back inside the apartment, she still couldn’t find the words. He bolted every lock, half ignoring her mum’s questions on his urgency, as he moved about the apartment.

“You set the stairs on fire,” Rose finally uttered.

“I set the stairs on fire.” He nodded. “It’ll burn out quick enough, not enough food for the fire.” He weighed a blender in one hand and a toaster in the other. “Do you have any electronics you don’t care to part with?”

“You  _ set _ the  _ stairs _ on  _ fire _ .”

“Rose, I need you to calm down and listen.” He grabbed her shoulders, desperate to convey his urgency. “Darren is going to be at that door any minute, and something tells me the locks won’t keep him at bay for long. So please, answer the question.”

Rose sucked in air, remembering something she told her mum to toss out months ago. “Hair dryer. Pink. Cabinet in the bathroom. It doesn’t heat up, just blows cold air.”

“Perfect.”

He retrieved the item, and took it to the kitchen. There he used a knife to rip the cord open.

“What are you doing!?” Jackie screeched.

“Mum, not now. He’s helping.” Rose pulled her back in the sitting area as he worked. “I think,” she amended.

The sound like a physical blow, Rose and Jackie stumbled when Darren pounded on the door. “Open this door  **now** , Tyler!”

“Or what?” The Doctor shouted, full concentration on the cord. “You’ll huff and you’ll puff?”

“I’ve had enough out of you!” He slammed into the door, Rose actually felt the building shake. Jackie caught a couple of falling glass trinkets.

“Now Darren,” the Doctor admonished as he plugged the cord into a socket near the front door. No hairdryer, Rose noted, just a loose cord with some odd metal pieces hanging off the end. “No need to add property damage to your record, again, probably. The poor people of Powell wouldn’t appreciate it.” He slammed into the door with a greater force. “Alright, okay! I’ll open the door Darren and we can go, man-to-man.” The Doctor unlatched the first chain lock.

“Doctor, no!” Rose harshly whispered.

He grinned over his shoulder to her, still addressing Darren. “First lock undone. Now...” he clicked in the door knob lock. “It’s open.”

The Doctor pressed the metal bit to the knob. It clattered momentarily from Darren’s grip, followed by his disjointed cries. The Doctor quickly pulled away. Then, after tapping the doorknob himself, he opened the door.

Darren laid sprawled over the walkway. The Doctor put a finger to his pulse.

“He’s fine, but Rose,” he smiled apologetically. “Could you call an ambulance to be safe?”


	6. Keep On Running

An ambulance later, Darren left. No cops entered for questioning, and the Doctor assured them Darren wouldn’t return.

“How?”

“Jack.”

“What does he even do?”

“Flowers, favors, and f—” He glanced at Jackie. “F- funsies.”

Rose caught on quick. “Funsies?” She teased.

“Right, well,” Jackie threw her hands up. “Bev ask me for her glue back ages ago, can’t believe I misplaced the thing. Still, a new one should be apology enough. You two-” she pointed between the Doctor and Rose. “-no more trouble.”

And she swept out the room.

“You’re name’s  _ actually _ Rose Tyler,” the Doctor’s voice raised curiously.

She turned to find him sifting through their mail. “That’s funny. You’re rather techy about my name for someone who doesn’t have one.”

His head swung back when she veered close. “I’ve got a name.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep,” he popped the p. “The Doctor.” He turned, putting his hands on any and everything he could. “Or Doc, occasionally Doct-ah.” He seemed to be searching, but at the same time not. Rose leaned in to watch his fingerprints paint the room.

“Thank you,” she put in when he paused. “For... saving me.”

His eyes fixed downward, suddenly numb he gave a jerky nod. “Yeah...” Then he dropped onto the couch, sweeping up a cuppa, and propping his feet on the table. “Can I tell you a story?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “I’ve got a friend. He...” The Doctor tugged his earlobe. “He’s got a girl who- who keeps an eye on him—”

“—oh my god,” Rose breathily bemoaned.

The Doctor jumped up, holding a hand out to reassure her. “Okay, so she’s stalking him, but let's say -hypothetically- she's stalking him, but he's stalking her, stalking him.” His eyebrow jumped as it sunk in.

Rose laid a palm to her forehead. He found her out. He knows. He knew. And he— “No.” She sidestepped to put the table between them, befuddled and defensive. “No no no—”

“Yes yes,” His eyes widened minusculey. “Rose, it’s okay. Honestly, it’s fine.”

“But-” All the times she spent with him piled liked blocks of guilt. “But I listened to you.”

He grabbed her shoulder over the table. “And I spoke to you.”

With that confession her perspective of the situation changed. From defensive to offensive she shoved him. “You knew! You never said, and I sat there. All this time, and you knew!?”

“Middle of the night, someone steals my plant.” He looked her up and down, wrinkling his nose as if appraising her. “You never were quiet.”

She tossed her arms out. “Since the beginning, you knew!”

“Sorry!” When she began walking away he panicked, grappling a fistful of hair. “Alright! Sorry, I’m sorry!”

She stared at him.

He waited, breath heaving, for her to accept his words.

Sorry. He said sorry. In no way is her decision to eavesdrop his fault, but he’s sorry. Rose sputtered into laughter. “You—” She pointed at him, but had to support herself with a hand to her knee.

His eyebrows drew together, trying to puzzle her out. “What?”

“You actually—!”

“What?”

She could only laugh.

“Stop it,” he squeaked.

* * *

 

 

“Metallic stars?”

“On my ceiling.” The Doctor twirled a finger for example. “Reflect like mirrors. It’s how I saw you that night.” He nipped a chip from Rose’s hold before she could pull away. A question later, Rose had the Doctor agreeing to treat her to chips. Until they arrived and he conveniently remembered he forgot his wallet. She paid, and ‘reluctantly’ shared as they walked the park. A breath of fresh air, the company of greenery, and an open space. Perfect for talking the then into the now. “I thought, that’s odd. Not running, not a thief. Considered vandalism, and me thinking can carry on for hours, so naturally on that thought you finished and left.” He walked sideways to face her, all toothy smiles. “You revitalised my rose, Rose.”

Rose chuckled into her palm. “This is  _ daft! _ ” She escalated to a laugh. “I mean, at first I broke in to search for my friend, Shareen’s key. And now we’re-”

“We’re what?” He asked hopefully.

His doe-eyes turned her shy. “We’re here just talking about this. Think about it. I broke in to sit outside your window!”

“I  _ know _ !” He clapped. “It’s brilliant, you stalked me!”

Rose abruptly turned around before falling back into pace. Exasperated, but also enjoying it when she shouldn’t. “Doctor!” He’s not taking this seriously, and she wasn’t sure how else to approach the subject.

It also proved difficult to keep face with him smiling all the time.

Rose wondered if he saw her the same. A character who stepped out of the screen. Except to have never spoken, her presence probably ventured closer to a doll. Like the teddy bear she once pretended was sentient, he must see her as an imaginary friend made real and talking. Someone he confided in knowing they couldn’t rebuke the words.

And then she remembered the times that made her visits less okay, and knew he should know, even if it hurt. “Thing is,” Rose began. “You said night. The reason I’d been there is because I heard you earlier that day... I’m sorry...”

If there were a way to wish away words, she never wanted such a thing more than at that moment.

The Doctor’s adam's apple bobbed. He set his hands into his pockets, completely closed off.

To be beside someone who suddenly looked so lost isolated her to the point that she had to look around. Physically see a woman playing fetch with her dog, and a kid trailing after his father. Life around the void surrounding them.

“They held her funeral the following day,” he said, tone detached. “No one asked me to attend, so I didn’t go.” He tilted his head back. “Should’ve at least said goodbye, but why should I!?” He gritted out, fierce, and all directed at her. Moods like the flip of a coin. “Her family disowned me for my father. She left me with those monsters. When my father died, they celebrated. God knows what they did at Mum’s funeral, and you know what, I hope they had cake.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“And what if I do!?” He inhaled a ragged breath. “You know what, forget it, this was a bad idea.” He turned in place to proceed the opposite direction.

Rose jogged after him to grab his attention by the arm. “Doctor!”

“Stop calling me that.” He told her, not pulling away.

“You can’t treat your mum’s memory like this. You cared about her.”

“And how would you know!?” He did pull away that time. “Aside from the obvious.” He treaded off again. At a loss, Rose opted not to follow. Then he turned on his heel. “My endless stream of one sided conversations. You know all about me, how’s it fair I only just learned your name?”

“Y-you guessed it before,” she meekly bargained. “Sorta guessed you knew... something.”

“You’re a stranger,” he spat. “From now on my window will be closed, don’t bother returning.”

“Fine!” Rose shouted back. Her fire locked his lips. “If I’ve damaged your paper heart, I’m sorry, but I won’t stand here and take this.” She shoved the chips into his hold. “Goodbye, Doctor.”

* * *

 

 

Rose twirled her pencil. If it were history class, she might have paid attention. Thanks to the Doctor history means a bit more...

The bell rang. “Class is dismissed.”

The teacher and students couldn’t gather their belongings fast enough. Lunchtime. Not that Rose had an appetite.

A visit to Jack after school wouldn’t hurt. He’s someone to talk to, someone who understands the barmy mess as it is.

A pebble hit the window. A tap, followed by another. The room now empty, Rose cautiously approached the noise. Opening the window she found no one. Ground floor so... Straight down against the wall under the windowsill Rose met the top of a head. The top of the Doctor’s head.

“Welcome to the other end of the deal,” Rose told him, less than pleased to see him again.

“Vow of silence? Look don’t touch?” he droned on. “Akin to a visit to the museum, and I’m half as interesting, how did you stand me?”

“I didn’t stand you.” She muttered the words. “I sat down.”

His head tilted forward, and he laughed. She smiled to the sound.

“Rose, I’m sorry. I really am.” Although he still wouldn’t meet her eye, sitting, facing the same way as her. “My mother. I spend hours, and days, and weeks trying to not think about her. Then you mentioned that, and I—” He clenched a fist.

Rose watched him struggle. He resented his mother, she understood that. And bottled up the emotion till it festered, like a wound, infecting his soul to the core. A familiar process that had Rose blurting, “can I show you something?” as she climbed out the window.

He flipped around to help her out. “Isn’t school going on?”

She shook her head. “Nah.”

“So that wasn’t a class you were attending.”

The bell rang again. “No, it’s a knitting club.”

“Ah,” he softly exclaimed. “Shame you forgot your needles. And yarn.”

“Third time this week,” Rose tutted. “I should be banned.”

He grinned when she did.

* * *

 

 

“Jordan Road?”

Rose hopped off the pavement to sit at the street corner. “Mum said it happened close to home.”

The Doctor joined her, lightly bumping shoulders as he did. “What did?”

But she wasn’t smiling. He cleared his throat and shifted in place. The air whipped by, cars going about their daily business. Rose bit her thumbnail. Then clasped her hands together over her knees.

She tried to speak strong, but her throat had tightened, “nineteen eighty-seven, November the seventh. Dad was running late.”

She met his eyes, and he held her gaze. Understanding the gravity of the situation, but waiting to understand why.

“He'd went to get a wedding present, a vase. Mum always said, that stupid vase. He got out of his car.” She swallowed. “Hit by a speeder. He was dead when the ambulance got there. He died. My dad died. I was only a baby.” A few tears fell, but she ignored them. The Doctor’s face set as her story washed over him. “That’s me,” she stated, slightly trembling. “In for a penny, in for a pound. I’ll introduce myself from the beginning, same as you. No longer a stranger, me.” She forced a smirk, and he had to look down as a small smile overcame his own features.

She took in a breath, chest expanding as she sat up straight. He had no comment, so she carried on, “growing up without him I thought, why him? Of all the people in all the world it had to be him? It couldn’t have been the other way around. I wanted to  _ scream _ at the driver, who are you!?” She shouted on the question. “What’s so important about you that you live, and he...” She exhaled. “I felt less of a person. You grow up, learn from your parents who you are.  _ Got your mother’s spunk _ , they say, and what of Dad?”

He stared at his own clasped hands.

“Thing is, Doctor, I’ve had all these thoughts. I let the wound bleed so it could close, so it could scar. But you.” She tentatively took his hand, rubbing her thumb along his palm. “You’re still bleeding Doctor, and it hurts, but to get better, it has to.”

He searched her eyes. Around them life paused. Not many passed the street, so they had the seclusion of an unpopular shortcut. His eyes flickered to their joined hands. And he seemed to be building himself up with a long inhaled breath. “My so called family they... I’m as good as dead to them. Mum was my last bit of family. Real family. She was all I had. Now it’s just me. I’m left living in that school cause there’s no one else.”

“There’s me,” Rose softly offered.

His hand tightened around hers. “Breaks the illusion doesn’t it? This is who I really am, not some tailor-made talk for an eavesdropper. Me in the flesh, no filters. Are you sure you want to deal with a real human being?”

She shook her head. “And what does that make me? You’re stuck with me, same as I am with you.”

He smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”


	7. I'd Love You to Love Me

Jack sunk the six ball. Pleased as punch when it spiraled into the socket. He stepped around the table, winking at Rose as he did. She tried to look away as if she hadn't noticed, but couldn't hide a smile. Then she accidentally met eyes with the Doctor. His brow climbed, a muscle working in his jaw. Unable to play it off now, she gave the Doctor a tongue touched smile.

Jack got in a clear shot, drawing their attention back to the table, he hit his target in perfectly.

But it was the nine. That's foul.

She's stripes, he's solids.

"Oh." Surprise crept over the Doctor. He stared at the table, then Jack...

A playfulness possessed Jack, and he asked in that come-hither voice, "interested?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to respond, but seemed to think better of it, and clamped it shut. Abruptly, he broke into laughter. Rose watched, unamused, as the Doctor's cheeks pinkened.

She pursed her lips. "I don't get it."

Jack's asked her in that same voice, "shall I demonstrate?"

Suddenly the Doctor cleared his throat. "Right. Well. There's the—" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Rose, Rose wanted to see rose— the rose." He ushered her to the door. "Come on Rose."

"Wait." Rose leaned away to slow his pace. "You didn't explain—"

Suddenly unable to hold back, Jack guffawed them out the door.

* * *

Rose stepped into his room, once more accepting the surreal feeling of seeing the world from his perspective. The Doctor's room is rather small. A bed took up the majority of it. A desk took a bit more. And papers scattered everywhere took up the rest.

She went to the window, thanking the lucky reflective stars above for bringing them together. Below wasn't much to gaze upon. Well. She felt oddly perturbed to see a dirt spot forming where she sat before. But the rose bush. The rose bush flourished. Bright pink bulbs dotted amongst vibrant, brilliant blossoms. They spread as if bursting with life.

"It's gorgeous," she sighed happily.

"It's rough," he responded.

She turned on the spot. "What?"

"Being friends with someone who can make both sides jealous."

She chuckled. "Both sides of what?"

The Doctor answered with lips. His lips on hers. A blink of movement, with his hands pinning her upper arms. Rose pushed him on instinct, and in that moment of action, realised enough to simultaneously pull. Pull herself to him as he fell to the bed. They tumbled down together, knocking heads, and groaning. She anchored herself to one arm to rub a sore spot with the other.

Rose cringed, her fingers curling into the duvet. "Did I ruin it? I ruined it..."

"No," he reassured her, but was still fighting off pain. "If anything." He shook his head. Eyes falling hooded once he realised her proximity. "You've made it better." He leaned closer. "Horizontal's better..."

"You two sound so cute," Jack's voice carried in from below the window. "Mind if I cut in?"

"Jaaack!" They both groused, Rose smiling, the Doctor genuinely annoyed.

* * *

"Hello, Rose!" the Doctor beamed, tiny clippers in his hand as he pruned his plant.

Rose leaned onto his windowsill from the outside. "Jack wanted in, called telling me he set up a tournament with some mates."

"Ah, I heard." He yanked his ear, averting eye contact. "Did you hear of the rules?"

Her eyebrows drew together. "Should I be concerned?"

"No," he breathed, "but there's a reason I'm not participating."

"Despite the fact that you had **me** in a corner last you played? Why—" And then she tried not to smirk. "It's strip pool again, isn't it?"

"Again!?" he blurted on a laugh. "Don't tell me he—" His face went completely pale. "Don't tell me you...?"

"Don't worry." She patted his hand reassuringly. "Only once, and I only took off my shoes."

"Of course you did." He stared down at her. "And... him?"

She only smiled.

"You're terrible."

"Wanna play?"

"Oh, yes."

His honest response surprised her. He's usually more reserved in such talk. Proof of that is the weeks since they began practicing kissing, and the lack of him discussing anything official. She wanted more, but already felt she pushed his boundaries too far as it is.

The Doctor made a pleased noise as he clipped free a long stem accompanied by a rose. "Best of the lot, this one."

The flower petals overflowed from the center, none marred, and blooming to its fullest.

"Definitely," she agreed. "Why clip it?"

He twirled the flower between his fingers, solemn as he stated, "for an apology."

"To whom?"

He approached her, leaning over the windowsill, but looking at the world beyond her. "I'm going to the cemetery." All his attention went to the flower, he rubbed a leaf, then asked, "will you... accompany me?"

"If it's..." She bit her lip. "...alright with you."

"Even if she can't hear, there are things that need to be said. And... I'd like to introduce you."

Rose slowly smiled. "I'd like that too."

He took her hand in his.

* * *

The Doctor laid that little rose before his mother's headstone. The flower Rose endeavoured to grow strong, and in turn, strengthened the bond between them as well. She arrived as it nearly died in his loneliness, and rescued them both with her companionship.

She brought life, and in a world that favored death, he vowed to protect it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> This whole fic was a fun-fic, so thanks for sticking around!
> 
> [Song Title Contest] I customized the title of every chapter to lines from stalker songs. Or what I consider stalker songs. Tried not to make it creep lines, (Creep by Radiohead proved to be very tempting) and well, I'm gonna be that radio host and say the first to name them all correctly gets their own fic. And you can be as involved or un-involved as you like, as long as there's something to write. A topic. A theme. A ship. I can't promise a length, but I do promise something. I'll edit this note if a victor presents themselves. And if that happens to be years later, you'll have to excuse me for any late response as I throw my head back and laugh at my younger self through time and space.


End file.
